The Shame We All Became
by carved in the sand
Summary: "Sometimes I close my eyes and think." - Sasuke POV/Centric


_What a shame we all became_

_Such fragile, broken things_

_A memory remains_

_Just a tiny spark_

**.**

**.**

.

It was always a routine: Juugo and Suigetsu would search for food while Karin and myself built the fire and checked the surrounding areas for any wandering stragglers. Usually if we found any, they would harmlessly pass through the woods without any incident. That is, if they hadn't recognized us.

The fire roared steadily through the darkness. Karin sat closer to it, crouched down with her knees pulled up to her chin and her arms wrapped around her legs. She looked….vulnerable. Quiet. The darkness enveloped her, and even the blood red of her hair seemed subdued.

I settled myself against a large tree with crossed legs and hunched shoulders. It took an unsettling amount of concentration to stand straight and tall - memories from lessons with an old man much too keen on appearances for my own tastes.

Those lessons -_ "Shoulders back, chin straight, Sasuke."_ - brought back the empty hollow feelings that I couldn't stand. The emptiness, the hollow place inside my chest that I knew would never be filled. But the emptiness was preferable to the pain.

In these subdued moments that weren't filled with bravado and trying to keep a group of outcasts together, I could unwind and let my thoughts roam into forbidden territory. Sometimes I would think about my brother, and how I'd single highhandedly murdered a man who sacrificed his entire life for so many unworthy souls. Sometimes I thought about the family that no longer exists. And sometimes, I would think of another family.

When it was quiet, when it was dark, I liked to reminisce.

The days when training was a challenge, my muscles ached, and the only _sane_ person I had contact with was Karin (and even then, the girl could be utterly mad), I longed for Konoha. The skies were never blue enough in Otogakure. The trees weren't as plentiful, the people weren't the same. I'd catch myself thinking about them at the strangest times. But then I'd remember where I was and _why_, and my goal. I'd shut off my thoughts and continue with routine.

Routine was safe, normal, kept my thoughts from wandering. It had become a crutch.

It was a good thing that those three idiots kept coming around to try and change my mind. What if I began to forget things? Like the exact shade of Naruto's hair: obnoxiously brightg and yellow. Like the distinct twinkle of Sakura's laughter: light and feminine. Like the sound of Kakashi's voice: low, and purposefully airy and deceitful.

But then things changed, I realized where I needed to be, and the truth had been revealed: the symbols on their forehead protectors proclaimed them as the enemy when Konoha was revealed as the sole orchestrator of my family's demise. There was no possibility of reconciliation or peace or letting my vengeance go when the very village the Uchiha had created turned on them in the ultimate act of betrayal - wiping them away from existence, like trying to wipe away the marks they'd made on this world.

The thought of this only made the weight in my chest heavier, instead of igniting fury. I could not go back. I would not go back. It was plainly simple.

Yet it wasn't to hard to wonder how my life would have planned out if I hadn't left to train with the deceased Sannin. I would be a jounin of Konohagakure, protecting it's people and my comrades. I would settle down with Sakura and be the best of friends with Naruto and still be trained by Kakashi.

I sighed quietly through my nose.

As Taka becomes more agitated with my moves and planning, I begin to look back and try to pinpoint the exact moments when I began to actually _care_. Care about what happened to them or if they were to leave or if the battles they would walk into for my sake ended up taking their lives. I rely on them much more heavily than I should, just as emotionally as strategically. It's what became of Team 7, when I could actually refer to them as more than the idiots I got stuck with.

Soon, either I wouldn't need them anymore, or they would decide they wouldn't need me.

Blue eyes. Pink hair. A low, gravel voice. I can already see it. These memories of them will become old and faulty, untrustworthy to my senses. They would break down, deteriorate into nothing more than grainy ashes. Then the ashes will slowly fade away without leaving a single trace.

Soon, they would all fade away.


End file.
